


don't ruin this on me

by vanasha



Category: Devils' Line (Manga)
Genre: Coming In Pants, Developing Relationship, Dorks in Love, Dry Humping, F/M, Frottage, Implied Self-Hatred, Insecurity, Making Out, NSFW, Shyness, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vampires, a bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 16:05:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanasha/pseuds/vanasha
Summary: "Did they have someone watch over them every single time they came close? Should they have?"Anzai and Tsukasa are making out. He likes it when she's calling him by his first name, maybe more than he can handle.





	don't ruin this on me

 

There is hardly anything spontaneous about planning a ride to the lab and asking for someone to monitor you being intimate with your partner. Much less something romantic.

As a devil officer who had some kind of supervision on him at many times it's one thing Anzai had long gotten used to. And while Tsukasa's safety is the most important thing to him, he can't stop thinking about how she deserves more. Someone who doesn't have to book some kind of a cage-like bed that looks right out of a S&M porn movie just to make sure they can keep you safe while having sex. Someone who doesn't have to train to not hurt their partner, something other men can manage without a problem. Privacy. Someone... normal.

Whenever he tentatively brings this topic up, Tsukasa smiles at him in this sad but understanding way that hurts but also makes him feel so weak. The last time she put his hand in hers, kissed it and held him close to her for a while without saying a word and still explaining so much. Explaining to him what he already knew but still had trouble believing.

Sometimes all they did was hold each other.

Other times... Well.

  
  


*

  
  


Tsukasa once said with a grin that they should view their “activities” as a way to “train”. With signed quotation marks and all, and a blushing face. How far they could go before he loses control, before he loses himself. Before he loses her, Anzai thinks to himself.

(Turns out, the answer to that seems to be “never”.)

  
  


*

  
  


They hadn't forgotten about the tools they had at home though. At “their” home, Anzai still can't believe. The mask, the handcuffs, the nail protectors for his claws and his sedatives should it come to it. It almost always comes to it.

All of that is hidden away in a box underneath the bed, as if not just the knowledge that it's there drives him insane sometimes. That she wants it here with them, wants it close by. Wants  _him_  close by. Often they just sit in their room together, her busy with her work and him reading something work-related and he has to actively stop himself from getting hard just thinking about it. Trying to shut out the thought of his handcuffs in the room with them, the mere possibility, the implication, the certainty.

It's fucking pathetic.

He is.

They are both adults for crying out loud. Adults that know they want each other, that have already slept together before, maybe not signing the “real deal” so to speak but have still crossed that bridge already. Technically.

He knows he shouldn't act like a teenager that just realized what his own body wants but Tsukasa hasn't been in his life for too long and yet he hardly wants to remember it without her. He always ( _always_ ) feels the need to touch her, the  _want_  to touch her, felt that way before they became official. Before he had made the best mistake in his life and had kissed her for the first time, having no idea what would follow.

Stupid of him to assume that this would change so soon.

If at all.

  
  


*

  
  


She wants him too. He knows that firsthand but even when they aren't alone he can feel her eyes on him. Both when he isn't looking and when she knows he is. Unashamed in a way that only Tsukasa can be, as if to only show him that she can and will, that she wants to, that she wanted  _him_.

It doesn't help calm him down, quite the opposite.

Sometimes he wonders if she knows.

What she's doing to him, what she  _can_  do to him. He told her a couple of times (“Because we should, shouldn't we? We should talk about what we want, Anzai. Talk to me about it.”), with a face nearly as red as his eyes, noticing the way her cheeks turned darker too, watching her slowly squirm more and more in her seat.

And it always ended the same. Her on her back (if they were lucky enough to be on the bed), her in his lap, her against the wall, her hands in his hair, beneath his shirt, grinding against him in a cruel rhythm until hesitatingly pulling away again before it became too much.

One time he had been the one pressed against the wall, Tsukasa kissing his neck, her hand in his pants and just the memory of that is enough to turn his eyes red and to breathe heavier.

Does she feel the same? He knows she does to some extent but does she feel the  _same_? As if staying apart for too long would cut off his air, would leave him breathless, that having her close is what kills him and also keeps him alive?

  
  


*

  
  


Did they have someone to watch over them every single time they came close?

Should they have?

  
  


*

  
  


She says she trusts him and she really does but god, she is too trusting and they both know it.

They also know that Anzai can't just bear her telling him that (“I trust you, Anzai. I always do.”) and then do nothing about it.

He knows when to stop. He really does. She knows how to stop him. Has even looked it up online, reading the stories of other devil and human couples that keep what little bit of dangerous freedom that they can get to themselves, not wanting the eyes and ears of anybody else upon them in their most personal moments. What helps them  _make sure_  to keep the human partner safe, to keep this between them.

He likes to think that he has more control over himself now, is able to pause if he has to, like he did before, that he knows when to (finally) start touching her again once he is sure he can manage it.

But when she tells him that she looked for information to sleep with him without prying eyes, to be with him on her own terms, just her, with him, _for_  him? He has to close his eyes and breathe for a second, to remind himself that getting hard over something like that might not be the best indicator that this should happen at all.

That just because he knows he can get her wet enough to feel it through her underwear, through her tights, that it doesn't even take more than a few minutes to get her there, that he knows what she sounds like when she is ready for him, that it's so  _easy_  to just pick her up right here, that she probably won't even mind–

He can feel his eyes glaze over with red, he can feel his cheeks color just to make sure that everybody gets the hint, as if more than the obvious growing bulge in his pants is necessary, and he quickly turns away from her, shoulders hunched, hands gripping the seam of his shirt.

The only thing she had done is say a few words and his body and mind are going haywire. She put thought and effort into this because she wants to be close to him, wants this to work and he can't even keep his dick down at the mere idea.

  
  


*

  
  


Their tools and his sedatives are always near and it drives him crazy because he might be selfish for entertaining that idea alone but he isn't actually dumb enough to risk hurting her. And he knows it is only a matter of time before one of them grows too weak.

Of course it would be him.

  
  


*

  
  


If–  _When_  their kissing turns into something heavier, something more, Tsukasa is meant to remind him of the sedative before anything else happens. Just in case he isn't in his right mind to remember it himself. The last thing he ever wants to do is hurt her so she had to promise him that the second his eyes turn red, she'd make sure he'd grab the handcuffs and the protectors for his fingertips.

The mask... That is another thing entirely.

He won't go as far as saying that the sight of blood now leaves him cold. He got better at it thanks to Hans. Johannes. Whatever name he preferred today.

And only as long as it wasn't Tsukasa's blood. But the smell is by far still the worst ( _best_ ). Anytime his girlfriend is on her period Anzai makes sure to stay away from their apartment.

His thoughts and his hands are... less easy to control.

  
  


*

  
  


The mask he can do without. The mask he  _wants_  to do without.

Touching Tsukasa is heaven and he's sure someone up there messed up big time for him to be able to be with her in the first place. But not seeing her, not smelling her when he knows he can, when he knows she wants him to, when all that is between them is his own lack of self-control.

It feels like hell.

And him neglecting to use the mask makes him realize that maybe he really belongs there.

  
  


*

  
  


As long as Tsukasa will have him though, he can't find it in himself to care about anything but her.

As long as he can handle it, can handle her, can keep her safe.

As long as she wants him.

  
  


*

  
  


Right now it seemed she does. She can probably still hear the moans that he tries so hard to hide with his head buried at her neck and her collarbone, inhaling her scent, as if he can keep it with him forever, whispering her name in between. He is too loud for his own good but he can't help it.

But he makes sure to keep himself quiet enough that he can listen to her own gasps. And as always her favorite word in these situations.

“ _Anzai.”_

He shivers every time she repeats it. As if he had forgotten that they're real, that  _this_  is real, that this is actually happening. That he's here with her, that he's allowed to be, like he has any right. Like she needs him exactly where he is.

He feels like he'd die happily in these moments but right now she needs him so that just won't do.

There is something though, something he heard from her mouth (god, her mouth) before but still not often enough, and that had him instantly pushing his nails into his palms on more than one occasion. But he never heard it here on their ( _their_ ) bed before.

He can hardly think when he is able to look at her like this, much less touch her like this (she asked him for it, not knowing that she can just take it from him, who is he to say no to her, as if he could ever) but he isn't too far gone to hear it, to be certain he heard it right, that she just said it and then.

Time stops.

He freezes.

He knows.

He knows he should prop himself up, should leave the room, or at least leave enough room between them that he's not touching her anymore. He knows that he can't think clearly with her so close.

He tries.

He fails.

He can hear his own breathing loud and clear in his ears and worse, he can hear hers. He can feel it in his hair, can make out the faint flutter of her heart if he chose to. He can feel her hand gripping his arm, can feel her on the hand he has in her panties, her legs not sure if they want to close down on it or stay open for–

(“More, Anzai, please.”)

He freezes and then he doesn't.

He should stay still, his  _hand_  should stay still but if it does, he has to think of what he is supposed to do, he'd have to act appropriately, he'd have to look her in the eyes, knowing she wouldn't force an explanation out of him.

But his hand doesn't stop moving.

 _She_  doesn't stop moving.

Against it, against him, with him.

What other choice does he have? His mouth comes up from the home it made against her chest, her neck, everything it could reach, closer to her ear, not sure if he wants her to hear him, if he wants her to know. If he can handle it.

“Please.”

He isn't above begging and if he ever was, then certainly never with her.

How did she not know what she was doing to him, what she  _kept_  doing to him?

It feels just as intimate and short of embarrassing than the last time he asked for her (“Touch me. Down there...”). No, it feels even more intimate than that because–

“...my name, please.”

–he just has to hear it again, not sure that he can stand to hear it again, that his body can stand it, that he won't suddenly cease to exist if she utters it again.

A part of him prays that she didn't hear him, that she is too distracted but he knows her better than that. So far she's never thought twice about granting him his wishes. Sometimes before he can even ask for them.

Her nails dig into his scalp, into his skin, sets him on fire wherever she touches him. Being oh so careful to not to let that fire roam, to not break his skin. And still she presses into it just hard enough for him to feel the possibility, to wince because how can he feel so good when he shouldn't, shouldn't even have asked for her to say his name again, shouldn't even be here with her, put her in danger just by–

“ _Yuuki...”_

–the sounds she makes.

He isn't human and he isn't devil and whatever breaks free of him isn't either. But it is the first time Tsukasa says (whimpers, moans, sighs) his name while they're in bed together and that is all there is left in his head.

His hand between her legs speeds up, he's sure his wrist is going to hurt later with the awkward and slightly uncomfortable angle forced by his handcuffs but he pays no mind to that because he can still feel her through his nail protectors. His other hand tightens on her hip, the claws hidden away as to not hurt her but his grip is strong enough to make him doubt it for a second, to give him reason to shortly glance down just to make sure he is in fact not hurting her.

His name.

She said it before. She tries to use it more often, mostly in the privacy of their own four walls but sometimes she calls him that outside, surrounded by others. Her looking at him and calling him Yuuki with a soft look in her eyes or her saying it without even looking at him as if it was nothing special (to her, to him), as if it didn't show everyone what they were.

And god, sometimes it infuriates him how easily it distracts him from everything else, how it makes his heart skip a beat before increasing it tenfold.

How much he loves it.

Her saying it while one of his fingers is buried deep inside her while the rest of them rub her clit and lips, with her being so wet that he can  _hear_ his finger's movement. While he grinds himself against her hip in only his boxer briefs, while he is so hard it hurts, while he has to push his head into the pillow least his fangs scratch her skin or the urge to bite down (and take, take,  _take_ ) becomes too much.

He has fantasized about this more than once.

He has touched himself to that fantasy more than once.

(Always feeling guilty afterwards but never letting that stop him with how good it felt in the moment.)

But to actually hear it.

For her to repeat it, now that she sees what it does to him, how it feels to him.

With her coming closer and closer to the edge, pressing herself up into him like an offering, as if she isn't offering herself to him basically every time she lets him be this close, be this unprotected with him, be so completely helpless against him, just as helpless as he is against her.

Her thighs tighten around his hand, her hip bone pushes against him, her hand is in his hair and the other grabs his back as if to pull him even closer, to pull him deeper into her.

She comes with a whimper that started out as his name in a quiet, breathless moan and ends up being something else entirely when she bites into his neck.

Suddenly his hips stutter and he groans into the pillow as he loses his mind. He feels like he is losing it.

He grips her hip tightly, the fingers of one hand still inside her, still on her, still moving in a now broken rhythm. He smells her,  _feels her teeth in his neck_  right after she sighed his name, knows that she'll leave marks on him.

He winces as he comes in his boxers, sure that she's feeling it against her skin even through the fabric.

  
  


*

  
  


It feels like a lifetime until the blood pumping through veins (hers, his) isn't the only sound he hears.

Until the red veil that covered his eyes slowly fades.

Until he feels the small kisses she's giving him on his neck.

How long has she been doing that?

With a lick over his teeth to see how bare his fangs still are (visible but already small enough to speak), he slowly raises his lower body to rest beside instead of on her, a small whine escaping his throat as his spent cock rubs against her by accident in  _just_  the right way when he removes himself off her.

He makes an effort to keep his neck close enough to her mouth while doing so, already starting to feel like he always does afterwards, somehow lighter and dizzier, like he could lay here with her forever, like he could ignore the drying come in his boxers for now to just keep enjoying the cozy embrace.

Like he wouldn't trade this for anything in the world.

He shyly risks raising his head out of the pillows to gauge her reaction, losing Tsukasa's mouth on his skin and instantly missing it.

A bright and lazy smile greets him. He can't help himself but to mirror it.

But before the thought of closing the distance between them with a kiss can even fully grasp a hold of his mind, a sudden whimper from Tsukasa startles him out of his afterglow high.

His heart stops.

(Has he hurt her, has he bitten her, has he ruined it?)

He looks at her face, then down her body, at his hands–

–the one hand he has still buried inside her panties.

He has no idea what's more humiliating: that he had forgotten about it and is blushing now as he softly removes his hand, trying to ignore the small spark of arousal that goes through him, trying to ignore how wet she is, or the fact that Tsukasa giggles quietly and isn't even hiding it.

(She's not hurt, he didn't hurt her, he didn't mess up, he didn't lose her.)

When he looks up to her face, absentmindedly wiping some of the wetness on his fingers onto his boxers, she tries to hide her smile behind her shoulder but crumbles under his stare.

A blushing, giggling mess.

He snorts, failing to keep his own smile off his face.

God, he loves her.

“Shut up.” is all he mutters through his teeth though, acting all annoyed by her laugh but a twitch at the corner of his mouth betrays him.

He nods to his still cuffed hands.

Tsukasa hurries to grab the key from the nightstand next to her with a smile, unlocks his handcuffs and he's free again before she leans against him with a satisfied sigh.

Anzai pulls her tighter against him, his back on the mattress, one arm around her, the other one on his stomach before bringing his hand up to his mouth, licking away what was left from Tsukasa, now that he feels a bit more in control over his body again.

He ignores her embarrassed squeal with a lopsided grin as she presses her face into his chest, having seen where his hand had been earlier.

Two can play that game.

The hand then goes to his neck and Tsukasa stiffens like she only now remembers.

Like Anzai could ever forget.

“I'm sorry.” She looks up at him, a small frown on her face, her chin on his chest, her hand drawing patterns on it mindlessly until then, now lying motionless in its place.

(He loves the way she touches him so easily. He loves  _her._ )

It's obvious that she's worried she did something wrong.

His fingertips, still clad in nail protectors even though his claws have changed back already, ease over the mark on his neck that she left on him.

With her teeth.

Because of how good he had made her feel.

While saying his name.

“I'm really sorry! I didn't really think whe– Wait, are your eyes–”, Anzai quickly turns his head away but it's too late, she has already seen the faint red trace in his eyes.

Goddamnit.

Tsukasa sits up, putting her hands on his face, moving it back to her.

Anzai doesn't need to open his (once more) reddening eyes to know that she now has a sly grin on her face.

“Oh,  _Yuuki..._ ” she murmurs. Her thumb is grazing his bottom lip, the other hand moving to cover his own, the one that's now clutching his neck, the imprint of her teeth left on him.

He swallows hard.

Which is a bad idea, seeing that he can still taste  _her_  on his tongue.

But then again.

He'll gladly take all she wants to give him.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from "Almost" by Hozier. And I... I have no excuse. My intention was to write something sweet and short about Tsukasa trying to use Anzai's first name more often and Anzai becoming emotional over that because duh, they're in a relationship and they still call each other by their last names?? At least in the version that I read online, maybe that differed in other languages. But while writing this everything kind of escalated and this... just happened. 
> 
> It's been a while since I wrote anything and English isn't my first language so I'm very nervous about publishing this but if you found anything you enjoyed in this, I'd love to hear from you! :)
> 
> Also a HUGE shoutout for MsFanficReader for looking over & correcting this!! You did such a great job and I can't thank you enough for taking the time! Thank you so much! ♥


End file.
